Authors Note: Sorry for the slight delay in posting this normally I post weekly but I think from this point every 2 weeks is more likely, particularly as it is going to be following an AU version of S8 epi's and not knowing fully where that is going I don't want this to make no sense come the finale.
I'm also going to add a Dub-Con Warning to this chapter (It's not actually intended as such, more a powerplay in line with earlier chapters but it may hit a little close to the mark for some, and no I'm in no way condoning it or saying that where these two are 'at the moment' is in anyway a healthy relationship).
On a lighter note, thank you for all of the reviews and to the new readers glad you found this fic and are enjoying it enough to want to read it all in one go like that :) Also loving the new series at the moment, relationship wise between the two of them was a bit unsure after Kill the Moon, as they seemed to genuinely stop wanting to be around each other, but am happy given the events unfolding now that this isn't the case. Also the more it goes on the less 'paternal' vibes I get about them but maybe I'm reading too much into it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Clara had never actually been to 13 Paternoster Row, but it was a little eerie to recall it so well, like remembering a dream from one of her Echo's lives here. She stood still in the doorway of the parlors greenroom, her eyes on the wicker chairs, remembering a particularly tense conversation there... although she couldn't remember the words. Only that it was important that she convince the lizard woman to help her, to help the Doctor.
As if on cue she felt warm hands slide onto her shoulders and brush down her arms as he stepped into her space, his chest pressing against her back; it was difficult to imagine a time when she didn't know this man... when she had to fight for his attention, to get him to even notice her. Even his last face hadn't been as preoccupied with her as this version seemed to be, and she had been his mystery to solve.
"I'm fairly sure there isn't supposed to be a Tyrannosaurus Rex stalking the Thames contained by sonic lanterns in Victorian London dear." She murmured not taking her eyes from the room and the odd melancholy it had set within her. She heard him sigh and felt the way his breath tickled her neck.
"Yes well, not much I can do about that at the moment, looks like we were still inside it when I performed the short hop... the vomiting came after. The TARDIS is too damaged to return it, containment will do for now, I imagine in a few days she'll be right as rain to take us back."
Clara nodded, bowing her head and glancing at her hands, they looked the same as always, she turned her hand palm up and examined the flawless skin she knew had been damaged only hours ago. 'Then there was that'. It was amazing what you could choose not to think about, she'd managed to go hours all the way back from the Thames to here, through their brief supper and conversations with Vastra, Strax and Jenny as the Doctor briefly caught them up. Which was to say that he'd said he found Trenzalore again, spent a thousand years there, died and was now... 'Scottish', or so Vastra had completed for him, her own lilt seemingly becoming stronger with amusement.
"Very." Clara had muttered, not offering anything else to the conversation, but she hadn't been able to shake the way Vastra was staring between them, the keen look in her green eyes, assessing and clearly wondering at the new dynamic between them. If she wanted to ask the question about whether the regeneration had changed their relationship she clearly correctly deduced that the sour expression on the Doctor's face meant that now was not the time. Clara didn't feel like enlightening her about the fact that the sour expression was a permanent feature.
She was pulled back into the moment as his lips brushed her temple and she was forced to focus on his words, sensing she'd missed several of them if his sigh was anything to go by. "Jenny has made us up a room, why don't you come get some rest." He offered quietly, his hands dropping to her waist and gently turning her so that she moved towards the stairs.
"I'm fine." She replied obliging him and lifting one foot in front of the other. "Wasn't that the point of your miracle cure?" The last was said with enough bite to still his hands against her as they reached the top of the stairs and her stomach gave an unpleasant flip of nerves as the unsettled nature of their postponed argument flared to life again.
His grip tightened fractionally. "A few hours ago you were still dying... humour me." He growled back, low enough so as not to be overheard as he guided her towards the bedroom Jenny had made up for them. Although it had been with some hesitation she noted as the young woman had touched her arm briefly, clearly she hadn't shared Vastra's restraint 'are you and he then... I mean I know he's changed, but he's still the same man, still the Doctor yes?' Clara had sighed, smiled in what she hoped wasn't too weary a manner and merely nodded, 'yes he's still my husband Jenny. One bedroom will be fine.' Which seemed to have allayed her fears as she'd had smiled back at her patting her arm in a way Clara tried to imagine wasn't sympathy. After all the Doctor had only been in their presence an hour or so and he was already stirring up trouble and frowning looks at his more... acerbic nature. She wondered if there new physical differences were also giving Jenny pause, but then given the physical discrepancy between her and her own wife, she hardly thought her shallow enough for such thoughts.
The door loomed in front of her and Clara hesitated, his hand at her back, he sensed her unease and reached around her, pushing the door open and exerting enough pressure on her lower back to have her lead him inside. Clara stepped in eyeing the Victorian furnishings with that same feeling of nostalgia and trying not to hear the click of the door lock.
"You know I've never understood the point of a bedroom." He mused, as clearly grasping for a distraction as she was. "An entire room just for sleeping in." He tutted, "Time Lords don't have them, the beds just unfold from the walls whenever you are in need of one, which in our case is rarely if ever most get by on catnaps between blinks. But we seem to have been in the minority on that as a species. Although the TARDIS does seem to enjoy creating them for my... guests." He hesitated over what to call his previous companions and she wondered if he only kept one with her to give him some place for them to have sex that wasn't going to deface his beloved machine. But his voice grated alongside the meaningless words he was offering, all she could think about was what he'd done, to her. How was she supposed to feel about it? Grateful, furious, grief stricken, or just glad to be alive?
He clearly picked up on her mood. "Is this the part where we have another argument Clara?" his low rumble of clear exasperation rolled over her and she set her shoulders, turning back to look at him mildly surprised with how dashing he looked, dappled as he was now in the mixture of candlelight and the flickering dim electric light. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to explain why it was this face could get under her skin and attract her in ways that the younger version simply never could. Oh she'd loved him, been more than happy with him, but with this him, it was like there was an itch she constantly needed to scratch when she caught him staring.
"Would there be a point?" Clara responded to his clear irritation with her own, finding she had to look away, his visage haunted her enough at the best of times without adding a trace of Victorian romanticism to it with the flickering light.
He sighed, his hand rising to run wearily across his face and up through his hair, ruffling it in a way that only added to her irritation with him; only he could have stepped out of a crashed TARDIS, vomited up by a T-Rex and deposited onto the shores of the Thames, without a crease or a smudge. "I will not apologise for saving your life, not now not ever." He told her bluntly and she smiled sadly back at him.
"Of course not." She turned away from him, "But you could at least try to empathise with what you've cost me... on purpose." She added, "Because I know you've been planning this, 'rainy day remember'?" she tossed a dark look back at him, "You were just waiting for the right moment... the right injury to whip out your magic wand and take away the only threat left to us. My humanity."
He let out a sound close to a tut. "Oh don't be so dramatic dear, if it's the word humanity you fear you've lost then trust me, you're still painfully human. Just a little more durable now."
Clara closed her eyes, feeling tears prick but again she wasn't sure if they were for her or for him. "Humans age and die Doctor... it is their defining trait, their mortality."
"You will still die." He bit out, the admission clearly still painfully abhorrent to him.
"When?" she snapped, growing cross with his callous attitude, with his alienness. He didn't immediately answer and she contemplated what that would mean, he'd said she'd absorbed enough energy to fuel an entire regeneration... how many human years did that equate to? "A few hundred?" she questioned but his expression didn't flicker and she felt something leaden settle in her gut, "A few thousand?" she asked with disbelief and he had the grace to look away this time, crossing to the bed and making a show of examining the brass fittings on the bed posts.
"Jack Harkness is human and he will live considerably longer than that." He pointed out turning back to give her a look that suggested she was being ridiculous. "And unlike the good Captain I'm sure there will be limitations to your ability to heal." He actually had the gall to look like that was something else he might consider needing to fix.
Clara bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from screaming in frustration at him, her hands clenching into fists at her side and she realised she actually wanted to slap him again... hard. Just like that time he'd pulled her out of her cell on Earth. "Jack Harkness makes your skin crawl with his wrongness and sends the TARDIS fleeing to the end of the Universe to be rid of him. He will end up a billion years old, a giant floating telepathic head in a jar. He is hardly what I would hold up as the poster boy for what's left of my humanity Doctor." The whole conversation was eerily reminiscent of the one she'd had with Jack himself as she'd tried to convince him she wasn't like him... wasn't immortal; ironic that the argument was turning to ash in her mouth now.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "And yet you flirted with him." There was a childishness in his tone that cut her given the seriousness of the conversation and she felt compelled to cut him back, honestly she'd thought this was behind them, they'd spent several months on the TARDIS now, the Earth and UNIT already beginning to fade from memory; half out of necessity for her.
Perhaps he had ulterior motives, maybe he was trying to distract her, to divert her anger and her despair, but if he wanted to play this game she was more than happy to oblige as she felt something close to satisfaction fill her as she responded in kind. "Oh we did a little more than flirt." Clara replied with a smirk, enjoying the way he spun to face her, his features instantly whitening in horror as they settled slowly into fury, his narrowed eyes fixed on her. "The good Captain is quite the kisser." Ok so it was perhaps a white lie, Jack had technically kissed her, but she hadn't stopped him and she took a perverse pleasure in the way the Doctor's mouth twisted with distaste at the clear thought of it. She didn't feel the need to qualify that Jack had all but accosted her, trying to convince her to forget her love for the man glaring soundly at her now; right now he deserved to stew on the idea that maybe he wasn't front and centre in her heart... even if it was a ridiculous notion. And one she was starting to wish was actually no longer the case.
The Doctors expression was dark, his blue eyes narrowed to a crystalline intensity as he observed her, "You're trying to make me angry." His voice was soft, quiet, but there was a dangerous tremor to it that she knew would have had most people heading for the door.
She barked out a cold laugh, not in the slightest bit amused. "Well it would make us a pair wouldn't it?" it wasn't an answer, but why let him know he was right. "Besides you bought him up. You wanted to let me know how much Jack and I apparently have in common now." She slid up to him, listening to the sharp rhythmic thuds of his hearts in her head and hearing the warning in it as she trailed a hand across his jacket buttons, being deliberately provocative because she knew now how her touch could fluster him as much as his did hers. "Maybe for once I'm just agreeing with you."
She looked up at him smiling thinly, "You're right." Her tone was biting and his eyes flashed, "Isn't that what you like to hear," she smirked seeing the way his jaw twitched with all he was holding back as she continued to push, gaining satisfaction in seeing him become every inch as riled as she was. Why the hell should he stand there and get to be unaffected by this, certain in his own decision to steal her humanity from her without a flicker of negative emotion? Maybe it wasn't the guilt she wanted from him, the humility, but she'd take his anger, jealousy, frustration; anything just to know this unfeeling asshole could still feel something. If she couldn't make him feel guilty then she'd damn well make him suffer in other ways.
"Given as we have so much in common now. Perhaps he and I..." he didn't let her finish, grabbing her firmly and all but slamming her into the hard bedroom wall, his hand pressed painfully hard against her mouth sealing off the words he clearly hadn't wanted her to say. His reaction startled her, she'd never expected him to become physical, words were his lash, always had been, but moments passed and his grip refused to lessen and his steely blue eyes bore into hers. Their faces were so close that their noses brushed as she felt the heavy rise and fall of his chest against hers. The veneer of his civility seemed to slid off him as the possessive monster she knew he harboured bore down on her.
It was reckless, but she felt reckless right now as the tension grew palpably between them, but she refused to back down; her anger giving her courage as she stared defiantly back at him her fingers digging into the material of his jacket and keeping him close, feeling the warm puff of air from her own lungs against his hand as it refused to move or lessen its grip on her mouth. His head dropped to her ear and she almost flinched at the telltale sound of his zipper. Maybe she should have expected that... wasn't she the one that had taught this version of him that sex was a form of control? Apparently she was too good a teacher.
His lips moved to her ear, "You wanted me angry." He reminded her his lips brushing hers as he spoke, "so congratulations, I'm furious." he could read her as easily as ever it seemed, even protected behind her mental walls; but perhaps in her anger they were a little shaky. She bit down hard on his hand mostly in irritation and he didn't even flinch, just shoved harder against her mouth, making it hard to even work her jaw. In retaliation his own teeth bit down hard against the sensitive lobe of her ear and she bucked sharply at the sudden pain. She felt his free hand move up her thighs and push beneath her skirt, she barely had time to register what he was doing when she felt the sharp sting as the material of her underwear was yanked free of her and she gasped half in surprise and half at the sudden flash of arousal his rough actions caused. Clara wanted to say something, to bark back at him, take control of this situation as she had before with him, but his grip on her mouth tightened and he pushed her head back until it hit the wall behind with enough warning in it to make her hiss, biting down on the venom filled words she longed to fling at him and would when her mouth was her own again.
His smile was razor sharp and she felt the flash of unease warring with arousal because that was the look he used to face down invading alien armies. It was pitiless and at the same time there was an unhinged wildness to it that spoke of all consuming feeling. Not for the first time she wondered how it was they had ended up like this, her equally wild eyes staring into his fathomless ones. "Do you hate me my Love?" He asked gently, the thumb that kept its grip on her mouth brushing gently against her jaw, she let her warring railing emotions crash against him and he flinched, his grip tightening further until she was sure he would leave a bruise, but for the first time she realised his hands were trembling, in fact his whole body was. She didn't know what he would do... what he was thinking, if he was even thinking at all. He was lost, utterly lost she realised. She'd meant to piss him off, to make him feel something of what she was; not terrify him into something desperate.
Clara released his lapels and lifted her hands to his face, panic beginning to settle inside of her as she tried to gently settle the disquiet she seemed to have unleashed in him with the softness of her touch; this wasn't how it was with them... he didn't get to dictate the terms. But he was having none of it, he released her mouth to grasp her hands by the wrists instead, slamming them back hard beside her head, pinning her with a sharp grunt and taking her mouth firmly with his to stop her from trying to convince him otherwise... or cry out at his harsh treatment.
"You wanted to goad the monster from its cage Clara." he snarled, kicking her legs apart with his knees with enough force to leave her unbalanced as he stepped into the space. "Did you want to prove to yourself that I'm nothing more than that?" He hissed as he bit her lips sharply until she could taste the metallic sting of blood, clearly drawing his own conclusions from her comments, she wasn't entirely sure he was wrong about them at this point. What had she wanted to prove?
"Did you want to give yourself the excuse you've been looking for to pull away from me for good, to leave?" The words were raw like he'd torn them from a gaping wound inside of him and Clara shook her head violently wanting desperately to steer this conversation back on track from the wild rails he seemed to have tilted onto; but she couldn't find her voice as his eyes seared her with the utter madness swirling in them. He clearly didn't want her to argue, or to reason with him, to find a way to drag him back to sanity right now. In fact given the way he was pressed against her holding her firm, his clear arousal straining it was obvious that right now he just wanted to fuck her and to do it his way for once. To prove that in this moment she was still his, no matter what might come later. Consequences clearly be damned. Impossible man she snarled internally, hoping it breached his mental walls.
But it was obvious she had pushed him too far, as he released one hand to free himself of his clothing; clearly his own actions had left him more shaken than either of them had realised. Or perhaps it was simpler than that, this sudden fear of losing her that he'd so recently thought he'd fixed, only to have it suddenly rear its ugly head in an entirely new way, with the realisation that she could simply leave. Finding her voice she opened her mouth to argue that he was wrong about this, that she'd never leave him, when he shoved his tongue into it and thrust himself hard and sharply between her legs. Her cry of pain was swallowed by his mouth as he took her hands at the wrists again, pinning them to the wall as he pinned her body with his hips. He wanted it to hurt, to mark, she realised dimly picking up on some of his desperate, swirling thoughts, as he thrust deeply into her unprepared body; his girth stretching her painfully and she cried out, forcing his hand to cover her mouth again.
Her suddenly freed hand went to the back of his head, holding him firmly. She could have pushed him away she realised, clawed at him found some way to break his hold, it wouldn't be that hard; whilst she recognised his current fury and desire to hurt her he wouldn't actually force her... maybe she should have stopped him, probably, before this set a precedent; but she couldn't find it in her as he moaned throatily against her neck, not relenting in his punishing rhythm. For whatever reason he'd convinced himself he needed this, and he was despite his arguments to the contrary, seemingly intent on pushing her away, on driving a wedge between them, on realising his own fears. Well she refused to play his game, refused to let him destroy them, or himself.
She projected her intent in that moment as clearly and as loudly as she could, her fury and determination to force him to face himself and his fears; he grimaced clearly getting some of it and responding as he slammed her hips back into the unforgiving wall again and again driving the air out of her, until she was forced to raise her legs around his hips in an attempt to ease the pressure. It didn't help if anything he slid deeper, until she was sure she could feel him brushing her cervix and he groaned with satisfaction as he took her from this new angle.
"Would you have let him do this?" he rasped nose to nose and she knew suddenly they weren't talking about Jack anymore, instead this was about the ghost of the other man in their relationship... But he didn't give her the opportunity to speak as he clasped his hand firmly around her mouth again. She closed her eyes banishing the images of her Bowtie Doctor when he'd taken her roughly in desperation; it had never been like this and she realised with a jolt she wouldn't have accepted it from him, not like she was now. Her eyes darkened on his feral ones, hating that he could twist her like this, turn her emotions on their head, because they both knew she was letting him do this. Not once had she said no, not even in her mind as he'd slammed himself into her. Even now her body was starting to accept his violent coupling, the sharp ache of pain sliding into a deep swell of pleasure. Oh she knew it was all kinds of wrong and probably hinted at a truck load of issues she was developing, no doubt mostly because of the man fucking her wildly; but right now, in this moment she wasn't going to back down from him or let him claim control this.
He was getting away with this treatment only because she'd let him... she'd deal with the why of it when she wasn't fighting back an orgasm strong enough to make her want to scream out loud, the consequences, or his intense grip sealing her mouth closed, be damned. This was her husband's monster given life and momentary reign because she had pushed; he was right of course she'd wanted to shine a light on this side of him. To get him to acknowledge its existence even with her, to admit it had been that which had driven him to remake her according to his design. She supposed then that it made it her monster too.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she was to overcome with feeling to focus on thought, as she panted lightly against his hand, feeling his grip softened fractionally over her mouth as she started to feel light headed, "You can't leave." He admitted resolute as his thrusts became less sharp and he started to ease his rhythm just as she started to crave each invasion again, "You can't die on me." He expanded his claim as his hand fell away from her mouth and the rush of understanding she felt from him had her sliding her hand from the back of his head to his face, feeling something wet brush her fingers as she realised he was crying silently, his tears sliding free of his furious eyes. And so they came to the crux of the issue, but she didn't need to hear him admit his fears of what her death might have done to him; how impending that must have seemed to an ageless Time Lord. That it truly would have unleashed for good the monster that was intent on hurting her now with only the small glance of freedom he had given it.
She felt a swell of pity which was chased by anger for the broken Time Lord she'd taken as her husband. This was her choice she reminded herself, she'd chosen him, and he was right there was no in between, she couldn't just have the bits of him she liked, it was all or nothing.
He began to slow, his tears becoming a torrent as the trembling which had wracked his body from the start grew more insistent. "Don't stop." She found her voice, almost desperately now as she brushed his tears aside with her thumb, "Harder... please." She urged him, knowing she couldn't accept his gentleness, not now, not the way she was feeling; the monster had wanted to fuck her, not the man. Ill-advised or not she needed him to finish what he started, to force his way back into her heart, to claim it even in his darkness. He hesitated his gaze locked on hers for an endless moment before he did just that, taking her wrists again hard enough to bruise and pushing them into the wall before continuing with his violent thrusts, slamming her spine into the unforgiving wood until she is certain she'd leave an imprint. But his pelvis was pushing into her clit again like this, hurting and pleasuring her all at once until the pressure builds to almost unbearable levels. He bites down on her lips, then her jaw, her neck and she clutches him with her hips, wanting to snap him in two and draw him closer all at once. Her nails digging into his hands until she knows she's drawn blood as he grinds into her. When the pressure finally explodes she bites down hard on his tongue filling her mouth, until she can taste his blood and feel the spasm it creates in him until he is shaking and spilling himself into her with a guttural sound on shaking legs.
They breathe together sharing one breath, but he doesn't dare meet her eyes she notes, as his head instantly drops to her shoulder and she can feel his hearts thumping wildly against her; his hands finally release hers and she winces as the blood rushes back into them and her spine finally protests at the treatment, if only for a moment before all discomfort fades as if it was never there... a stark reminder of what he's done, what he's taken from her.
"Get off." She snarled, letting her legs fall from his hips, but somehow she is still pinned by his body. He lets out a shuddering breath and raises his tear streaked face to her finally, the desolation she sees there should move her, would have, if she couldn't feel the underlying satisfaction rolling off him in waves that he has claimed her like this, taken back some of her power over him.
"Off!" she rasps no louder than a whisper but her voice is laced with a command. He lowers his hands to steady her hips as he steps back and she tries not to let the relief show as her feet connect with the floor once again and she can breathe easily without the crush of his body against hers. He opens his mouth and her hand connects solidly with his face the impact jarring his whole body and stinging her palm with its intensity. But it's not enough and she slaps him again, harder, seeing the telltale rush of colour to his cheek and wondering if she might have actually bruised him with a disturbing flash of satisfaction.
"If you weren't my husband Doctor, this is the part where you and I and any other sane Companion of yours would have parted company." Where she really would leave, just like he feared... like he almost seemed to want her to do just to prove himself right.
"But I am your husband." He bit out and the pain that hit her chest at those words, closed her throat against the sob she wanted to release but wouldn't... not yet.
"Yes, you are." She accused, his blinking red rimmed blue eyes reaching her for a moment. "Now get out!" she bit off, hearing the venom in her own voice and feeling the way her heart was tripping with her utter fury and no small amount of despair. His fingers curled into fists and she spared a moment to wonder if he was considering hitting the wall, or her... it wouldn't after all damage her now, but that was hardly the point and she found herself almost without reason tilting her chin up, inviting him to try.
"This..." he tried his voice a growl and her finger shot up in warning before him.
"Not a word. You don't get to speak to me. Not now, and not until I'm God damn good and ready to hear another word out of your mouth!" He glowered at her, his still wet eyes destroying his clear attempt to storm away without an apology as he turned towards the door, eying it with distaste. She tensed fractionally sensing a fight brewing in him before his gaze switched to the window and his eyes danced with the prospect as he crossed determinedly to it, shoving up the sash with enough force to have it rattle. He glanced back at her and gave her a look that promised that this was not in the least bit over, before he ducked out of it and slammed it shut behind him.
Clara stood listening for the telltale sounds of someone in the house coming to investigate; when nothing sounded after a few minutes she let out the breath she'd been holding before her entire body crumpled and she slid down the wall clutching her head in her hands as quiet sobs racked her. It wasn't fair this wasn't supposed to be her life... or her husband; the Doctor wasn't this and she couldn't shake the frightening idea that it was all her fault. That if he had never married her, if he had never loved her that he might not have become this at all. What was it he'd said on Trenzalore? 'You can't change history if you're part of it.' What if that was all this was, a self fulfilling prophecy, what if they'd prevented nothing, merely fulfilled it; played their parts? What if he'd only succeeded in creating himself and the monster he feared that day when he chose to try and change his own history?
She'd once accused this version of him having a plan, a scheme and that they'd both been trying to trick each other when he'd called his younger self. What if it was so much simpler than that, what if the Universe, time-itself, was the trick. This was what had happened and would always happen... what if that cell in the TARDIS was still waiting for her, with a madman that used to be her husband holding the keys? If that was the case then somehow for some fucked up reason she wasn't yet able to process or admit to herself, she was a willing participant in putting them both there.